In the Field Where Stories Meet

by Virginia M. Mohlere

November 2021

Tell me how you fell.
Tell me
          how the edge of paradise
          slid away under your foot
          and the home you knew
          diminished.

Tell me of descent:
tell me
          how the atmosphere cried out when you entered it
tell me
          what remains in your meteorite heart.

Tell me of impact:
          tell me of pain,
          the crater that birthed you
          fragments scattered around you
          (gemstones yellow as the fire that ate you up)
say
how much of you was broken —
          more bones than you knew you had —
and how long it took to mend.

Tell me how you fell.

I will tell you how I rise.

                    I am from the ground unfolding
                    from inside dark unfolding
                    from smoking soil unfolding:
                    cotyledon
                    split
                              from an inert thing,
                              infected
                              with an urge to seek light.

                    Into the air unfolding
                    into the gem-littered field unfolding
                    the sun-clock heart of me
                              forever chasing anything
                              that falls from the sky.

                    (you)

                    I am the earth’s:
                              knots and thorns
                              burls, crowns.
                    I am xylem and phloem and bark.
                    The rain that falls on me is myself.

                    I am dust, emerging and returning,
                    and I never fell.

© 2021 Virginia M. Mohlere

About the author

Over the past fifteen years, Virginia M. Mohlere has emerged infrequently from her fort built of yarn and fountain pens to publish works in venues such as Mythic Delirium Magazine, Goblin Fruit, and Strange Horizons. She can be found on Twitter (@virginiamohlere), if you don’t mind cussing and Texas politics.